


on an old dirt road

by jxnathanbyers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bonnie & Clyde, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxnathanbyers/pseuds/jxnathanbyers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is Stiles' home. It's his fault for ever thinking that a home was something permanent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first big fic and it means a lot to me to share this with you. Enjoy!  
> (A song I listened to while writing this was: Time by Mikky Ekko)

A summer in Texas is scorching hot, sweat dripping down Stiles’ neck to his back and he shivers that kind of shiver that makes him want to shake some guilt off. 

He opens the hood of his Jeep and smoke billows out. He gags on the fumes and waves them away with a hand, sighing in the process. Arms wrap around his waist and he tenses before realizing the touch of Lydia.

He turns in her arms so that now they're facing. Her hair is pulled back and she's smiling, her eyes flashing in the sunlight. He's staring at her with a hungry look, already waiting for the cool rush of night when he would make her scream with pleasure. 

“Come inside,” She drawls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on his neck. 

He shivers again.

“I have to get this,” He pats the front of the hood fondly, “up and running next time we go into town.”

Then he taps a finger on his lips. “But how about you make me a cold glass of lemonade, darlin’?” 

“In your dreams,” She laughs, playfully smacking him in the arm.

He stares at her in mock indignation, his eyes sparkling. Unwrapping her arms from around him, he gently pushes her back towards the house they were squatting in. 

Stiles would never admit it, but he kind of liked it. The blue shutters and the peeling paint left a pang in his heart. It was an echo of home. 

But as he watches Lydia strut back towards it, he softly smiles. Lydia is more his home than anything else, and he wouldn't trade her for anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles watches from the sidelines as Lydia sidles up next to the counter, tapping her nails against the wood. Lydia is very resourceful at times like this and although Stiles is glad for it, he can’t help there be a twinge of jealousy as Lydia moves her strawberry-blonde hair over one shoulder, flashing a smile at Jackson. 

“I was wondering, Mr. Whittemore, if you had time to look at this necklace.” From her pocket she pulls out the pearl necklace Stiles had stolen for her that one day in Louisiana. He rolls his eyes as Jackson wipes down the counter and leans down on it, his arms crossed.

While Jackson is distracted, Stiles has time to take a few things from behind the counter. It’s nearly closing time, so the trio are the only ones there. He shoots a glance over to Lydia who bumps her leg against the bar stool, silently telling him that she can’t distract the man any longer.

Stiles nonchalantly stuffs the stolen items into his suitcase, his father’s old suit on him to make him look more professional. He hears Lydia say, “Well, thank you, Mr. Whittemore.”

The man smirks. “Please, call me Jackson.”

Stiles is rolling his eyes. But Lydia just flashes him a smile. “Thank you, Jackson.”

She nods briskly to Stiles and he follows after her, the suitcase in tow. When they get outside, he’s pushing her up against a wall, lips on her lips. His hands on her skin. She pants when they break apart and her laugh is something out of heaven, he thinks. 

“You’re jealous.”

“How could I not be?” He takes a break from looking into her eyes to glance down at her lips. “You talking to him like that. Him looking at you.” 

She bites her lip coyly and Stiles aches inside. “It’s not the first time I’ve charmed someone to get what we want.”

Stiles runs his hands through his hair, a sigh caught in his throat. The moon casts a pale shadow on the two of them, and the stars are twinkling gently above. The sky is a beauty, but Stiles can only see Lydia. 

“That’s different. The rest of them were all bumbling idiots. Jackson is just an asshole.” 

Lydia kisses him sweetly, and Stiles thinks that maybe the stars taste like Lydia’s lips. Maybe Lydia is all of space, encompassing and gorgeous. Something that he could explore forever. And he does when they get home. Home being a throwaway word. After this little scheme, they were gone. Off to the next city. Stiles could barely hold down his anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re so beautiful,” Stiles whispers, his eyes staring senselessly up at the ceiling. Lydia doesn’t say anything and Stiles relishes in the silence. His fingers move up and down her arm and he’s cold, but doesn’t want to move. He’s content just lying there. 

Lydia’s lips brush against his skin. “Do you ever think of home?”

Stiles closes his eyes and the white house with the blue shutters is at the forefront of his mind. Scott in his arms bleeding while his mother is on the ground next to Stiles, screaming. Stiles is sobbing, rocking back and forth. A gun is in front of him that his father set down after he had shot Scott.

He had shot Scott.

“No,” He says instead and falls silent. Lydia looks up at him and knows him well enough to not pry. Stiles is grateful for that and then he closes his eyes... 

When he’s just about to go to sleep, a bang sounds throughout the silence of the night. He shoots up like a rocket, Lydia beside him. A gun is in her hands and she’s pointing it at the door.

Stiles gestures to the gun and Lydia hands it to him wordlessly. He gets up and moves towards the door. He looks back towards Lydia who mouths, “Be careful.”  


He nods and steps into the hallway, the gun held up. He turns a corner and flicks on the lightswitch. A man stands in the middle of the room, startled. He had been making a grab for the pearl necklace on the table, but at Stiles’ entrance he was now facing him.

“Looking for something?” Stiles asks, the gun aimed at the man’s chest. He was short and stocky, a ragged cap on his head and his hands were held up. 

“I don’t want no trouble-” He starts to say and Stiles laughs.

“You should’ve thought of that,” Stiles takes this time to spit near the man’s feet, “before you busted up in here.”

“I-” Stiles shoots his leg and the man screams. At least the place they were squatting in didn’t have any neighboring houses nearby. 

“Shut up!” Stiles snarls, the gun is held so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were turning white. The padding of footsteps alerts Stiles that Lydia is now behind him. He doesn’t look back at her. 

“God!” The man shouts, grabbing his leg. This time Stiles shoots his chest.

Lydia lays a hand on his arm and gently lowers the gun. He turns back to look at her and there must be something in his eyes because Lydia is smiling softly at him. “It’s okay, Stiles. Just give me the gun.”

He does.

Then he sinks to his knees and cries. The man is not in his arms. The gun is not in front of him. There is no one screaming. Lydia rubs his back as Stiles sobs, his hands covering his face. He doesn’t want to think of home ever again.


End file.
